


Taking it Slow

by sbdrag



Series: John and Karkat [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-15
Updated: 2011-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-21 10:10:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sbdrag/pseuds/sbdrag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John wants to take it slow.</p><p>Karkat freaks out and feels like a douche.</p><p>karkat puts his hand down John's pants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking it Slow

**Author's Note:**

> Was inspired by a pic that will not save: http://yaoi.y-gallery.net/view/812372/

“Wait, wait,” John says, pulling away panting.

You are Karkat Vantas and you are fucking pissed. You are standing in John’s room. This was like, the tenth time you and your nooksucking derp of a matesprite had engaged in sloppy makeouts. It had taken at least five of these before he had said that “bluh bluh, okay, maybe he was a fucking homosexual” and a couple after that before he stopped caring. You had thought that maybe, and with your shitty fucking luck you should have known you would be wrong, that may fucking be it would mean John was over this shit.

But no, the very fucking minute your hand starts drifting under that gogdamn shirt, he’s pulling away and telling you to fucking wait. Never stop, just wait. Of course, he fucking means stop, which is what keeps fucking pissing you off. You growl.

“What the fuck, John?” you say, making him jump. John’s face is still red from before, and becomes a little darker as he looks away.

“W-well… it’s just that…”

“What? What the fuck is stopping you now?” you ask. John sighs, taking a step back.

“It’s just… well, I’m not… used to this,” he says. You snort.

“John, we do this all the time,” you say. “ALL. THE FUCKING. TIME.”

“Dude, I know that, I mean…” he is still not fucking looking at you. It’s starting to piss you off more. “I’m not used to… thinking like this.”

“Like what?” you ask. Jegus fuck this better be fucking good.

“Like… like… like I really really like kissing you, and thinking about you all the time, and how your hair has this really nice smell, and…” somehow, John’s blush deepens. So does yours. “And stuff like that!”

“John,” you say. “I don’t see the problem here.”

“Karkat, it’s just…” John bites his lip. “I… I feel… I feel so confused! I mean, I thought for fourteen years that I wasn’t a homosexual, and the first person I ever date is a guy, and I… I don’t know how to feel about that.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU DON’T FUCKING KNOW HOW TO FEEL ABOUT THAT?” you ask. John flinches back. What the fuck!? Seriously, what the fuck!? “ARE YOU SAYING THIS SHIT ISN’T REAL FOR YOU, FUCKASS?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just-“ John tries backtrack, but you are so fucking pissed right now that you could care less.

“I HAVE BEEN FUCKING DEALING WITH YOU AND YOUR FUCKNIG NOOKSTAIN FEELINGS SINCE BEFORE THIS FUCKING SHIT EVEN STARTED, AND NOW YOU TELL ME THAT YOU DON”T FUCKING KNOW HOW YOU FEEL!?” you say, taking a step toward him. He retreats.

“Karkat-“ he says.

“DO YOU KNOW HOW FUCKING LONG IT TOOK ME TO FUCKING ADMIT I WAS FLUSHED FOR YOU? HOW STUPID AS SHIT I FELT WHEN I FUCKING KISSED YOU AND YOU RAN AWAY? AND NOW YOU’RE TELLING ME THIS WAS ALL A BIG FUCKING JOKE?”

“Please-“

“YOU KNOW FUCKING WHAT? YOU CAN SHOVE YOUR FUCKING PRANKSTER’S GAMBIT UP YOUR NOOKSTAIN EXCREMENT CHUTE, BECAUSE I AM SICK AND FUCKING TIRED OF THIS FUCKING BULL-“

“STOP!”

You shut up. John has never yelled at you before, and now that you aren’t ranting, you can see he looks like he’s about to cry. He is looking at you with this kicked fucking puppy look, and you only have one thought.

Oh. Shit.

“I didn’t mean that this was a joke,” he says. It seems like it’s hard for him to speak. “I just mean that… that I’m overwhelmed. That I think I might… I might really really like you, maybe even love you, and it kind of freaks me out. Everything freaks me out; how I catch myself just staring at like, your lips or something and thinking about how much I want to kiss you, or how my heart skips a beat whenever you do something nice like hold my hand. It’s not bad, it’s just… it’s too much at once, and I just… I just want to take things slow, okay!?”

He turns and throws himself on his bed. He didn’t cry, but you knew he was been pretty fucking close. He has his head buried in his pillow, probably still trying not to. You just stare into empty space for a few more minutes before biting your lip and looking away.

Oh. Fuck.

You are such a nooksucking asshole. You shouldn’t be allowed to have a fucking matesprite, not when you’re such a shitty one yourself. You can’t even be fucking patient and get your dumbass head to listen when he’s trying to explain shit to you, you just keep fucking going on your fucking temper tantrum like a nooksniffing wriggler. Fuck. What the fuck is wrong with you?

You look over at John. He hasn’t moved an inch. You bite your lip again, then walk around the bed. You climb up slowly, and hesitate. You sigh and worm a hand around John’s waist, laying against his side, letting your head rest on his back. You can see his shitty movie posters, but you don’t feel the same twitch of anger you usually feel. Probably because of how much of a douche you feel like right now. John sniffles, muffled by his pillow.

“I’m sorry, Karkat,” he says. You stiffen.

What. The. Fuck?

He’s apologizing to you? John, the wronged party, is apologizing to you, Karkat the fuckass douche?

“I… I know you’ve been trying so hard to be patient with me, and I… I’m sorry,” he says. You shift to push up.

“Stop fucking apologizing,” you say. “Just… stop. I’m the one who fucked up here, got it?”

“…okay,” he says. You sigh through your nose. You push up to put your head next to his. You try and fail to fucking come up with a reason for the next words out of your nookstain protein chute.

“John,” you say. “I’m going to slip my hand down your pants now.”

He stiffens, then lifts his head to look at you. You keep your eyes on him as you do as you said, carefully pushing your hand under the hemline of his pants and underwear. He shivers, closing his eyes as your hand runs into hair down there. You brush the top, a little curious since you’d never heard of a troll with hair on his bulge, wondering if this was one of those weird human things. Then you feel skin, and you go a little lower. Your eyes flick to John’s face. He looks… out of it. You start to pull back your hand, thinking this was probably a fucking bad idea. You flinch as John grabs you wrist to stop you.

“I… can you… keep going?” he says. He’s blushing. You nod, eyes wide. He lets go of your wrist, and you tentatively slide your hand down again.

He shifts so he is more on his side than his stomach, making it easier for you to explore. Human anatomy seemed pretty similar to troll anatomy. At least, what he had down there felt kind of like what you had down there and oh fuck was it getting harder!? You steal a glance at John’s face. He’s taking shallow breaths, and his face is completely red. Experimentally, you start rubbing your hand down the length of his human bulge. It gets even harder, and John whimpers. You shift, settling your head on the crook of John’s neck so you can press right against his backside. You keep going, until John is moaning and arching against you. You take his earlobe between your teeth on impulse, careful not to bite since you thought he wouldn’t appreciate it. John is breathing heavily, making more breathy moans and whimpers as you accidentally run your thumb over the head of his hard bulge. You keep doing this, until he makes a little cry and shudders, something warm and sticking shooting out of his human bulge.

He goes limp against you. You slowly pull your hand away. You grimace at the sticky feel, but you don’t want to move just yet. So you rest your hand on John’s hip, relishing the feel of his skin under yours a little. All those fucking noises had been such a fucking turn on, but you didn’t move, not wanting to bring attention to your own hard bulge. Even if it made your pants pretty fucking tight. You flinched as John shifted.

“Are you… okay?” you ask. John sighs, but it doesn’t sound like a sad sigh. It sounds almost… content.

“I don’t know,” he says. You scowl, wishing you could just fucking fix this al- “But I think I will be.”

You stop. You feel yourself start to blush, then snort at how much you’re acting like some romantic sap as you cuddle a little closer to your matesprite. John takes a sharp breath.

“Um, Karkat…” he says. “Are you, um…”

“Oh,” you say, realizing you are still hard. “Oh, fuck.”


End file.
